In 2005, Lisa set out on a 14 country, 7 month self designed food and wine adventure.
Read my blog for stories and photos.

“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are, otherwise you will miss most of your life.” - Buddah

As a service to foodies paying attention, I must say more about the cooking school I alluded to in my last entry.

If you love traveling for food and strive to go where no one (tourist) has gone before have I got just the place for you; Ayisha Manzil. Located in Tellicherry, a region that has locals scratching their heads wondering where in India is Tellicherry? I tried looking it up on the internet but they don’t have a website and nothing came up other than recipes for the eponymous Tellicherry peppercorn. To get there I was told to hop on the overnight train near to where I was staying in Southern Kerala and in the morning I’d be picked up at the station in Tellicherry. I did what I was told.

Promptly at 8:00am I was met at the Tellicherry train station by Jissu Jacob, Ayisha Manzil’s house manager and resident naturalist, and escorted to the property. After a short ride we arrived at the top of a cliff overlooking the Arabian Sea. I moved quickly from the second-class overnight train cabin to first-class status. The heritage house is a strikingly beautiful 150-year-old Colonial home situated among coconut and tamarind trees. The house, built in 1862 by British colonel-turned spice trader named Murdock Brown, has six bedrooms filled with family heirlooms and antiques. A staff of nine devotees at Ayisha Manzil glides about the house barefooted keeping total order so guests may experience an atmosphere of tropical peace and tranquility.

CP Moosa, whose grandfather purchased the home in 1900, greeted me upon arrival. His specialty, I quickly realized, is catering to out-of-towners. His past life for 35 years in hotel management prepared him for making people who are far away from home feel right at home. Moosa took his honed skills in-house and since 1996 he and his wife, Faiza, selectively play perfect hosts to mainly Western travelers looking for an authentic Indian experience that goes a layer below the surface of mass tourism. Before you can say Moosa the Macha (in Yiddish it means ‘The Big Cheese’, in Hindi it means fun. Both perfect descriptions of Moosa) he’s organizing your daily itinerary and giving you loads of options on how to spend your time in this secluded and small yet culturally rich region.

Moosa kept my days filled with adventures to the local spice and fish market shopping for top quality cashews, saffron and golden raisins to include in the Fish Biriyani planned for the evening cooking class or to the nearby 2.5 mile long and clean beach to swim or watch local families and friends pick bivalves from the sand for suppertime. Quite a few times I simply chose to lounge around the emerald tiled swimming pool and write in my journal. After all, I was on the greatest, most fabulous, best ever vacation of a lifetime. Why not laze about? When I removed the rush and hurry from my routine I was able to truly and deeply relax.

Moosa rattled off local activities from which to choose. The most unique and unforgettable on the list was Theyyam. A local religious, ritualistic art performance, Theyyam is performed as an offering to the deities and often held to bring good fortune to significant events such as marriages and house-warmings. Theyyam refers to both the form or shape of the deity and to the ritual. After several hours of watching the Theyyam “character” apply make-up and get into costume the religious rituals got underway. Wild pounding of drums, cymbals clanging and whirling around in circles helped the performer to channel the spirit of the deity. I was entranced by the otherworldly atmosphere created by the performer as he transcended from his physical state of being into the deity. Hopefully the Theyyam photo album to the right and audio recording at the bottom of this entry give a more accurate account of what goes on at a Theyyam performance.

Let us not forget the reason I endured the twelve-hour overnight train ride to Tellicherry in the first place. Determined to find an Indian woman who could teach me to cook Indian food, I had heard a few good things about Faiza Moosa; she was invited to be the guest chef at a top hotel in Lyon, France. Also BBC featured Faiza cooking Mopilah cuisine along the Malabar Coast and aired the segment twice. That’s all well and good but was I going to be able to roll up my sleeves, play around with different colored spice powders and sear some beef? I’m not strange. Really, I’m not. I just get great pleasure from the cooking process. I don’t even mind the clean up part. OK, that’s a little odd, I admit. (Not to fear. There is no cleaning. Only kitchen staff diligently keeps the cooking area clean and clutter free.) My only complaint is that the staff prepped too many ingredients ahead of time. Maybe they mistook me for someone who didn’t want tomato juice dripping down her wrist or fingers smelling a hint like onions and garlic the next morning. I do! That’s part of my fun!

A shy, cherub-faced woman, Faiza isn’t a big conversationalist. Nevertheless, her presence in the kitchen commanded my full and undivided attention. A small spiral bound notebook filled with family recipes was handed out. The assignment was to prepare five dishes to be enjoyed later that evening by my fellow houseguests around an elegantly set dinner table. The menu included Beef Stew, Tamarind Prawns, Fish Biriyani, Chappati, a few vegetable dishes and Scrambled Banana for dessert. Of the eight houseguests only two signed up for the class. More dishes for us to cook.

Mopilah (Muslim) Malabar cuisine has its own version of The Holy Trinity in Cajun cooking; bell peppers, onions and celery - coriander, chilli and tumeric powders are added to just about every dish. Mopilah Malabar cuisine makes use of the region’s various fresh vegetables and elaborate spices like mustard seed, grated coconut, cardamon, cinnamon and cloves. The food isn’t excruciatingly spicy but they get the point across with plenty of green chillies. Home cooks have control over how much or little heat to apply. Faiza kept a watchful eye while I acquainted myself with new ingredients and together we prepared an Indian feast. The only Macha in the kitchen at Ayisha Manzil is Faiza Moosa.

You’ll love Ayisha Manzil, cooking with Faiza and Moosa taking a personal interest in forming your itinerary. The selection of things to do is endless. Allow for lounging by the pool and book four nights. You’ll be grateful they asked Lonely Planet to keep Tellicherry out of the guidebooks. The people who venture there really want a slice of authentic India. Needless to say, skip the overnight train and enjoy an all day ride to Tellicherry. It’s well worth the trip.

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” – Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Four days into my India trip and I was itching to know where to go and what to do next. I’m a planner. It’s my nature. I can’t help it. Up until this travel journey a Palm Pilot dictated my days. Ironic it broke down when I got to India. If that’s not a message I don’t know what is! Now I try to live by a mantra, let go of having to know and go with the flow, but the planner inside of me rears her head from time to time and wants to know the plan. I resist that need-to-know tendency because many amazing experiences, people and places have come into my life over the past four months all because I didn’t have a plan.

Next stop for spontaneous adventure was a cooking school in Tellicherry. I knew I wanted to learn how to cook Indian food in an Indian kitchen from an Indian woman but didn’t know anyone set up to bring a tourist into their home and communicate in English about the nuances of Indian cuisine. A few of the locals I told about my interest in cooking sweetly offered, “Come my home. My mother teach you cook.” I thought about it for a second and maybe if I wasn’t traveling alone I would have gone deeper into the community way of life but on my own, with no one in the world knowing where I was made me opt for the cautious route.

I found out about a cooking school from the owner of Lagoona Davina. She told me about a husband and wife who run a home stay in a beautiful 150-year-old colonial mansion in the Northern part of Kerala. (I’m assuming you’ve heard the term home stay. There was an article in The National, a major English newspaper, in Bangkok, so I figured it’s already been covered in the states. If not, it’s another option for a traveler to staying in a hotel or B&B. In a home stay you’re closely connected to the family who’s home you’re staying in rather than an anonymous visitor roaming around a hotel. Some home stay hosts make you feel like you’re part of their family and you’ve come home for a visit. They might invite you to join in their meals and socialize like one of the clan or they might take you for a drive around town and give you a tour of the local flavors. On this trip, I’ve stayed in two home stays and highly recommend them for anyone who wants to get a glimpse of real life in that region.) The house, Ayisha Manzil (named after the husband’s grandmother) has been in his family for 106 years and the wife teaches cooking classes out of their home. The only other bit of information I had to go on was that this woman had been getting quite a bit of notoriety from the press. The BBC filmed a cooking show in their home and a leading hotel in France invited them to go to Lyon and showcase her traditional recipes for hotel guests.

You won't find Tellicherry (Thalasseri, the region’s name pre-British occupation) on every map of India. In fact, I looked it up in my Lonely Planet India guidebook and it was featured on the main map of India up front but that's the only time it's referenced. (Later, I found out the owner intentionally arranged this) I did some research on the place before making my decision to schlep up state and all I found when I searched the web for Tellicherry was information about the little green Tellicherry peppercorns. Peppercorns are used in cooking so I figured I was heading in the right direction.

THERE'S NOTHING I LOVE MORE THAN GOING OFF THE BEATEN PATH FOR A FOOD ADVENTURE! Some people might think "what a waste of time" but I know there are others, like me, who share this hunger for local experiences and revel in the journey.

CP Moosa, the owner of the home stay, emailed me details how to get from Kovalam Beach to Tellicherry. He said the trip would take 12 hours via overnight train. He also said there was no First Class cabin to Tellicherry so I should buy a ticket for the Second Class AC (air con) cabin. My “man servant” (Not kidding. That’s what the owner called staff.) sent a tuk tuk to the Trivandrum train station and purchased a one way ticket leaving 8pm and arriving 8am in Tellicherry. My first train experience in India turned out to be my last.

Gopi, a very sweet man drove me from Lagoona Davina to the train station. When he found out I live in San Francisco he became so excited and happy. An American man he drives around whenever he's in India lives in San Francisco. He told me his name and gave me his business card hoping that I could connect with him when I got back to San Francisco to talk about our common friend. Gopi referred to this man as “my brother” and told me that he's sponsoring one of his daughters through school. I also told him I was heading to Tellicherry (he hadn’t heard of the region) to take Indian cooking classes. “Come stay with us. You learn lots. Don’t worry. I’m family man. Two daughters and one wife.” I was overwhelmed by the spontaneous generosity and kindness. Gopi walked me to the train and took me to my seat assignment. I felt like a little girl being dropped off on the first day of school. I was a little nervous about my first train ride in India and appreciated having Gopi there to guide me to my seat. People advised me to get into a women-only car so I asked Gopi if this was possible. He said they didn’t have separate cars for men and women on this train. I asked the question again. “Can I sit in a car with no men?” Up until this point Gopi's English was excellent but I hoped he just didn’t understand my question and by asking again I’d illicit the answer I was looking for. I hadn’t heard any train horror stories so there wasn’t any real reason to be afraid. What was contributing to my fear was the fact that I was doing something for the first time. It was dark and late into the evening. To boot, I was going to a place that wasn’t on my map.

Gopi brought me to my seat and we said goodbye. The neighbors arrived soon after and I was relieved to see two women and one man. I liked the ratio. One of the ladies started making up her cot with the bedding that was left out on our mattresses. I had 13 hours in this 6x10 space so it seemed like a good way to kill some time. First I put on the fitted sheet. Then the top sheet. Both were clean. They provided a wool army blanket with an itchy feel so I was happy to have a top sheet. They also left a hand towel in case we wanted to freshen up at the sink located along the window side in the center of the two columns of cots. My hand towel had curry yellow streak stains that made me think it wasn’t a hand towel but possibly a napkin. No food is served on the train. It was just a stained hand towel. I tossed it on one of the open cots. Sobha and Molly were the names of the women neighbors and Vinod was the man. I thought it was a sign of friendliness when Molly took her shoe off and put her foot on my mattress. I wish that were the case. She did it because she saw a rat crawling around the floor space in our little area. That’s not why I made that train ride my last. Vinod, my male compartment mate decided he wanted to stay up late and watch a movie with me or do whatever.............. I blocked him out and ignored whatever he was saying to me and worked on my laptop editing photos. It must have been midnight by the time I finally fell into a tense sleep.

Sobha woke me (actually, she shook me. my experience with Indian woman was that they pushed or shoved rather than touched). It was 7am when my three compartment mates were getting ready to depart for Callicut, three stops before Tellicherry. “If you come to Callicut next time” she said, “stay with us.” Unsolicited and random kindness strikes again.

I thought it best to remain awake until we arrived at the Tellicherry station. Didn’t want to have to use one of the “Good Advice For When...” envelopes Tom & Cassandra sent me off on this trip with in case of emergency. My hands were sore and crampy from tightly and safely wrapping myself up in the sheets and blanket. The ticket man came by to punch my ticket. I was so disoriented I almost couldn’t find where I put the thing. I noticed the sentence ‘Have a Pleasant Journey’ was printed on the ticket. After that sleepless and tenuous night I chose to hire a car and driver for all future transportation throughout India.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the places and moments that take our breath away.” - Anonymous

Strong opinions are had about India. About the poverty, people, food, cleanliness, or lack there of, and I wanted to form my own. And that I did from the second I got off the plane.

After spending five weeks in the southern region of the country what I surmised is India is incredible. An unoriginal adjective, I realized, when I learned Tourism India already thought to use it for their current public relations and advertising campaign. Maybe it’s already been thought of, but, for me, everything about India was original since I was experiencing it for the very first time. I must say Tourism India hit the nail on the head with the campaign. Incredible is fitting because no matter what you imagine this place to be there is no way to come close to its reality without seeing it with your own two eyes.

India grabbed hold of my senses and had its way with them. You might even say assaulted them. The most extreme conditions and situations live side by side in harmony. An example would be the way garbage is strewn EVERYWHERE but to my surprise and the delight to my sense of smell what I picked up was creamy coconut oil. That boggled my mind. If I’m not making sense it’s because India is a 180-degree about face turn away from our comfortable lives in the western world. Here’s another example. When I landed what I first noticed was endless luscious tropical greenery. A land of coconut trees and banana palms enveloped by the Arabian Sea and women’s silk sarees in pulsating colors of saffron and magenta. Next to that I noticed tremendous amounts of garbage scattered along the streets, stagnant polluted streams and little boys and grown men peeing out in the open.

I’ve heard you either love India or hate it. It’s possible to love it and hate it. I was deeply intrigued by extreme differences in the way people live compared to the way I live. It might be safe to say I’m different from the entire country of over 1 billion people. 35-year old, unmarried, divorced, Jewish woman with no children traveling around the globe, alone. I was as foreign to them as squatting down over a porcelain hole or an open field on the side of a road and calling that a bathroom was to me. I also love the fact that I don't live in India but look forward to going back to explore the North. Northern India, I’m told, is less gentle than the South and for safety and peace of mind reasons I’d like to do this with a travel partner.

People ask me how I’ve planned for an around the world trip like this. Did I do a lot of research? How am I choosing where-to-go, where-to-stay, etc? The only plans I arranged in advance were flights into/out of some countries with flexibility to change dates without incurring a penalty. Any additional flights or trains I book as needed. The only hotel reservations I made were for the first nine nights in India.

The where-to-go part was easy. My goal was to have an endless summer. Or, summer-like weather for as long as possible. In January, it’s actually wintertime in India but mid-80’s and high humidity is summer enough for me. No one would want to be in India past April. It’s over 100 degrees with equally as much humidity and monsoon rains from May - August. I made the reservations for my first week in India online just three weeks before I arrived. Actually, I was in the lobby of the Sheraton in Iguazzu Falls, Argentina, working off of my little Apple Powerbook G4 Laptop wirelessly connected to the internet (it’s such a beautiful thing when I find the technology in place to be able to do that) and did a Google search for “hip hotels southern india”. It may sound strange that I searched for “hip” when India isn’t the place one goes in search of hip. I knew that was the case but I also know myself and five weeks of unhip, unclean and meatless was going to be tough living so I desperately searched for hip, at least for the beginning of the trip.

www.i-escape.com said all the right things about Lagoona Davina:
Lagoona Davina is an intimate guesthouse, nestling on the edge of a fresh water lagoon, with stunning views across to the white sands of the Arabian Sea. Set in a tiny South Keralan village amid coconut palms, it's far removed from the tourist crowds. Owner Davina Taylor Phillips, who left London a few years ago in pursuit of a more tranquil lifestyle, has created a simple but stylish hideaway with a totally laid back and homely atmosphere.

Rest, read, listen to birdsong and the gently lapping water, eat fresh healthy foods, and be pampered with ayurvedic massages, reiki and one-to-one yoga classes from fully qualified teachers, all in an ecologically-sound environment.

If you're seeking five star luxury or action this isn’t the place for you. However, if you're looking to unwind in a dreamy setting at a moderate price, it's an idyllic retreat. Perfect for women travelling alone.

The hotel was every bit as beautiful as the pictures. www.lagoonadavina.com

It was completely relaxing (except the mosquitoes in the evening), peaceful and stylishly decorated. The owner, Davina, was a real estate developer in the UK and interior designer in her past life. She did a wonderful job with the dramatically Rajasthan atmosphere and Indian animal themed rooms. I stayed in two different rooms. Monkey (with sea view) and Leopard (without view). The best rooms are the ones with a sea view. My only reservation about the place is the mosquitoes in the evening. They have scarred me (literally) for life. Every room is stocked with an assortment of repellant paraphernalia, spray, incense, and swatters. I don’t like using bug spray. I don’t like the smell or the feel of it on my skin. Hence, the scratching and scarring.

The property attracted lots of couples lying around all day kissing and staring and smiling into each other’s eyes. Maybe I was just feeling self- conscious since I was alone. Nope, it’s a place where couples come to relax, take in some ayurvedic massage, do yoga and just get away. I was happy to be easing my way into India at Lagoona Davina.

Some of the days I spent my time reading and resting at the hotel on the lounge beds overlooking the lagoon. Other times I watched the fisherman in front of the hotel pulling in their lines. I never saw them actually catch any fish just pulling in yards and yards of fishing line and then coiling it up to get it ready for more of the same the next day. I also took one of the hotel’s gondolas across the lagoon over to the sea side and walked to the neighboring beaches. Lighthouse Beach is the biggest beach in the area. It’s at the very end of the walk about 2 hours south from the hotel. Good for breaking a sweat. Doesn’t take much to sweat since the humidity was high. My skin had never been so soft and the bumps on the back of my upper arms disappeared. There’s a silver lining to every situation.

Don't ask me how I managed to get invited into a tiny tailor shop and have lunch on the floor with the owner but that happened on my first day in India. Naturally, it had something to do with food and a local so I loved every minute of it! How I managed to get there in the first place was by popped my head in the shop to see what kinds of fabric they were using to make clothing. Next thing I knew the shop owner, Sunny, was talking to me about his brother who lives in Chicago and asked me to join him for lunch. He started opening a plastic bag, the kind you get in the supermarket if you choose plastic instead of paper, and told me to sit on the floor opposite him. I was not about to get in the way of this most authentic dining experience so I kicked off my sandals and got into lotus position. Sunny took a ball of newspaper that held his lunch together out of the plastic bag. In the center of the newspaper was a mound of rice. He said there was too much food and pushed some of the rice closer to me and the rest was for him. Small plastic bags filled with curries or masala were also in the newspaper bundle. Sunny opened the little bags, asked me if I liked spicy, and poured a little of each sauce on a different area of rice. Eating on the floor wasn’t so strange. Eating with a stranger didn’t feel that unusual either. Eating a meal with my hand for the first time since I was too young to remember. Now that felt different. I guess I must have given off a vibe that I wasn’t all that comfortable with the non-utensil set-up because he got up to get a spoon. The water he used to wash off the spoon made me hesitate to use it so I stuck with my right hand. Besides, if I was going all the way with this authentic meal spoons weren’t in the picture. I’m glad there was no mirror to view my hand feeding my mouth with grains of rice with vegetable curry. That would have been a definite appetite suppressant.

Who knew my carnivorous palate could be so satisfied on a fish and vegetable diet? I was happy to go vegetarian for the month of January. God knows my arteries needed a rest from a week of Argentinean beef. (I only ate vegetarian for the first week until I felt comfortable knowing when to order chicken or beef.) Fresh seafood is plentiful throughout Kerala since it’s a coastal state. My staple dinner was Grilled King Prawns with Ghee & Garlic and Butter Naan. Kingfisher, the local beer, to wash it all down.

Looking back on my notes from January 2, 2006 (the day I left Johannesburg for India) I see it was a hellish travel day from Johannesburg to Dubai to Bombay to Trivandrum (the southern tip of India). It’s so boring to read about other people’s travel times and flight durations so I’ll spare you but I will tell you this. Poor Josh got violently ill our last night in South Africa. Something he ate in the Port Elizabeth Airport while we were waiting for our connection to Johannesburg must have been carrying a virus. The symptoms wouldn’t stop so at 2:30am I called in a Dr. to make an emergency house call just to get the poor guy to stop vomiting. He gave Josh a few injections to stop the vomiting and reduce his fever. He also loaded him up with pills, rehydration stuff and anti-nausea creamy chalky liquid. Needless to say neither one of us got much sleep. The room was so small it felt as if my head were in the toilet with Josh. On top of everything else I was a bit stressed about my own health. We ate exactly the same meal at the airport. My tummy was starting to feel a bit queasie but I didn’t want to think about it. I had a big journey ahead of me the next day and couldn’t afford to get sick.

We finally fell asleep at 3:30 in the morning. I got up around 7:00 to start calling the airport to try to change Josh’s flight ‘til the following day. There was no way he could live through the 20 hours of travel time back to San Francisco so I was hoping to get someone on the phone to help change his ticket. American Airlines doesn’t have a 24-hour help desk and Josh’s flight was leaving at 10:30. At 9am I threw on some clothes and went to the airport. Luckily his ticket has no restrictions and was easily changed, with a Dr’s note, to the following day. I went back to the hotel to drop off Josh’s ticket, grab my bags and head back to the airport for India. The tummy rumblings I was ignoring the night before came back to pay me a visit on my way to the airport. They were good enough to wait until the journey to India was underway. Luckily I took a stash of Josh’s drugs before I left. I was popping anti-nausea pills and drinking disgusting white chalky liquid every four hours. It was surreal. And ironic. Five weeks in India and the only time I got sick I wasn’t even IN India I was on the plane to India. I camped out on the floor of the back of the plane for a while to try to balance my lightheadedness. I was cold sweating and shivering so badly I thought my spine was going to snap. Emirates Airlines flight attendants were absolute angels. They brought me bread rolls and wrapped me in extra blankets. By the time I landed in Dubai for the first layover I was stable enough to get off the plane and over to the Emirates Lounge. Luckily the one Business Class seat I have on this entire around-the-world trip was from Dubai to Bombay and the lounge couldn’t have come at a more important time.